He went over to inspect it. Amazingly, considering the backward, twisted birth, it was intact. He washed his hands and brought a bucket of fresh water from the well for Ginny. Ginny drank from the bucket and shook her head, swinging it back to look for her foal.

“Luna needs to go back to her mama,” Ella said.

“Ye named her after the moon?”

She nodded. “It is a beautiful sliver tonight,” she said, luring the foal back to Ginny with the nearly empty bladder of milk. Finally, the little filly traded the empty bottle for her mother’s teats. Ella walked to the edge of the barn and slid down the wall to sit. Cain lowered himself next to her, their knees bent, the kitten playing with a blade of hay under Ella’s legs.

“She is perfect,” Ella said, her voice soft like a light breeze. She stared at the mother and foal, and Cain noticed one of her curls catching in the corner of her lips. He reached over at the same time Ella turned to him. Her eyes widened.

“’Tis…’tis caught,” he said, using one finger to pull the hair from her mouth. She remained close to him. “And ye have a smudge.” He slid the back of his finger along her cheek.

She didn’t rear back and slap him. Not even a frown lurked in the tilt of her soft lips. She studied him in the dim light as if trying to read his intentions. What would she find if she could delve into his mind? That he wanted to kiss her? Aye. That he wanted to slide his hands along the contours of her body and discover every little intriguing mark upon her? Bloody hell, aye. That he wished to make her moan in his bed? Aye, the image was infiltrating his thoughts like a stealthy thief trying to steal his steadfast discipline.

He frowned. Conquest was more important than pleasure. Duty above all else. His father’s words still rang from the grave.

He let his hand fall away, and the action broke the spell between them. “Have ye done that before? Blowing into a foal’s mouth?”

She leaned back and shook her head. “I have seen it done once. It worked then, too. Sometimes their lungs need a little nudge to start working, especially if it was a hard birth.”

“Which Sutherland is such a lover of horses as to breathe life into one?” he asked. “Besides ye.”

She folded her fingers together on top of her stained knees. “Alec Sutherland,” she said. Just the name made Cain’s fist tighten. “My father may have been a cruel devil to people, but he loved horses more than most. He certainly loved them more than…the people in his life.”

“And ye had no siblings to share the burden,” Cain said.

Her head jerked up, and her gaze slid to his. “No. There was no one else.”